


Lost All Control

by Kayim



Category: Leverage, The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot had rules.  His rules had kept him alive for this long and he wasn't about to break them.  No matter how bad the day had gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost All Control

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something based on the lyrics from Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" since the first time I heard it. This is the pairing that won out in my head. I'm not sure what that says about me.

Eliot had rules. His rules had kept him alive for this long and he wasn't about to break them. No matter how bad the day had gone.

He knew that Nate would be in the bar, with Sophie maybe, and they'd welcome him into their little pity party, but rule number 7 was simple: Don’t get drunk in public. And as much as he had come to think of Nate as a friend, for these purposes, he still counted as public.

With a kick, he slammed the door of his apartment closed behind him and flung his overnight bag on the floor. The apartment was cold – he'd been away for a week and hadn't thought to leave the heat on – but that didn't matter. The fridge in the small kitchen was all but empty, but what he wanted was in the tiny freezer compartment. He banged the tray of ice cubes against the worktop to loosen them and dropped a couple into an almost-clean glass.

He'd learnt to keep the alcohol out of sight whenever there was a chance Nate might come around, but the cupboard above the sink was better stocked than the bar. Rule number 8: If you're going to drink, get the good stuff. He grabbed the bottle of Jack and headed back out to the battered sofa.

With his boots still on and his legs stretched out, he poured a couple of fingers into the glass and took a long drink, closing his eyes as the heat spread through his chest.

He knew Parker would be fine – the bullet barely grazed her leg – but he couldn't help feeling like he'd failed. It had been his job to keep her protected while she got the safe open, but when the four guys turned up…

Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers were dialing a long-ago memorized number on his cellphone, ignoring rule number 15: Don't drunk dial.

"Eliot? What's wrong?" Jake Jensen's voice sounded impossibly clear, as though he was sitting on the sofa. Eliot forgot how to breathe.

"If you don't answer me in three seconds, I'm starting the trace."

"M'okay, Jay." He suddenly felt a lot more drunk than he should have been. "Just wanted to talk."

He heard a soft chuckle over the line. "You phoned me on the most secure cellphone in the known universe, avoiding every possible set of ears, just because you wanted to talk?"

Eliot shrugged, forgetting that Jensen couldn't see him. Or hell, maybe he could. If anyone could find a security camera to hack, it'd be Jensen. "You busy?"

"Nah, just doing a little recon work for Clay."

Eliot pictured Jensen sitting in front of his computer wearing just a pair of boxers.

"And yes, I'm wearing your hat." The one that Eliot had left with him when he walked away the last time. "It drives Roque crazy. You'd never believe how much irrational hatred that man has for a cowboy hat."

Jensen carried on talking, detailing Roque's failed attempts to destroy the hat. Eliot allowed the words to flow over him, calming him in a way that the whiskey hadn't managed. It wasn't quite the same as being able to sit next to Jensen, feeling the warmth of his body, but this was as close as they could get now.

He leaned back, leaving the bottle on the table, and closed his eyes, listening to the exploits of the only team in the world more insane than his own. The last thing he remembered hearing before he fell asleep was Jensen telling him to get his boots off the sofa before he got mud everywhere.


End file.
